Splinter
by the Angel fish and the turtle
Summary: Traveling...a hunt...a painful confession. AU as of season three.


**A/N; just a little something that came to me. Let me know what you think.**

**Disclaimer; I own nothing.**

**Splinter.**

xxxx

Sam wakes to bright sunlight blanketed across his eyelids and the annoyed sound of his brother's voice.

"Sammy get your arse out of bed, you're burning precious daylight hours."

Sam rolls over with a small whimper, he's tired and he doesn't want to hear Dean right now.

"Sammy!"

Sam sits up with a sigh, Dean face greeting him from the middle of the room. "Yeah, yeah I'm up." He mutters.

Dean waves him impatiently. "Come on. You need to go get breakfast. Want to be packed and outta hear by midday after all."

Sam glares at him. "Do I actually have a choice?"

Dean gives him that Winchester shit-eater's grin. "Always got a choice baby bro."

Sam huffs. "Yeah, whatever." He mutters, heading for the door.

xxxx

It's actually just past eleven when the Impala does pull out of the motel car park, mostly because Sam agreed to finish the last of his coffee and bacon and egg sandwich in the car.

Sam juggles the plastic cup in one hand, the steering wheel in the other. "And of course this hunt couldn't have waited, like five minutes."

Dean smirks evilly. "Possibly could have, but you Sammy, need to learn to eat quicker."

Sam glares at him. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to drive and drink at the same time?"

Dean shrugs at him nonchalantly. "You should be glad you get to drive my baby at all."

Sam drains the last of the coffee and tosses the empty cup into the backseat much to Dean's displeasure. Sam refuses to climb back and get it however so the two descend into silence for a while until Dean snaps and demands some music.

"What was it, you say? Something about shotguns and pie-holes? Maybe I'm enjoying the silence."

Dean turns miserable eyes on him. "Aww, come on Sammy! You wouldn't do that to me. Please? Come on you so still owe me!"

Sam looks away from his brother, but with the same movement reaches into the compartment for one of the ACDC tapes, Dean crowing his victory.

He doesn't need too. Dean knows Sam can't resist his sad face. Not anymore.

xxxx

The Impala's reaches the state border around six and Dean suggests pulling in at the next town for dinner and a motel for the night. Justifying the stop over for more research and with an early start as to be at the small town destination by morning. Sam, cramped up from nearly seven hours of driving agrees with him and stops the first food place he finds, a drive-thru, not dinner unfortunately.

Dean tells him that food is food, even Sam did want a salad not a burger, and after another half hour the car arrives at a cheep, roadside motel. Sam goes and orders a room, going through the ingrained routeen of "_one room, two beds_." without stopping to think about it, his mind caught ahead to the strange case found in yesterday's morning newspaper. He enters the room and throws his duffel bag down with a sigh and sends a possessive look Dean's way as he heads for the bathroom. His brother's laughter follows him.

"I might have desperately needed that."

Sam shakes his head. "As if!" he calls. " Sides, I've been driving for hours!

"Yeah, yeah, whine whine." He hears last before he enters the shower and lets the hot water take him away for a time.

xxxx

_////His brother's face stares up at him, pale and eyes sightless. Sam's hands are covered with the warm stickiness of his blood. "Dean? Dean!"////_

Sam wakes with a start, panting desperately and sweating.

It's a little after midnight and Dean's at the end of his bed, face twisted with concern. "Hey, Hey! It's okay Sammy. Everything's okay."

Sam shakes his head, sickened with himself. "No it's not! It's not okay Dean, I…"

Dean looks at him, worried. "You were dreaming about that again weren't you, when the hell hounds got me." It's more of a statement than a question and Sam doesn't contradict him.

Dean sighs. "It was three years ago Sam, you need to move on from it."

Sam shakes his head desperately. "NO! No I, I couldn't save you Dean."

"No, you couldn't Sammy. made sure of that, didn't I?" Dean's face is soft; blameless. "You did everything you were possibly able. You wasted Lilith, learned to control your powers, you…it's okay now. You need to forgive yourself."

Sam looks at him, face heartbroken and unrelenting. "No Dean, I didn't get you out of the deal! You went to hell for me and that's never going to be okay. "

xxxx

It turns out to be a wendigo, from the looks of the information Sam dregs up. Dean suggests wasting it the same day, seeing as all the equipment is at hand and there's records of a very likely looking set of caves.

Sam scolds him, saying how stupid that would be, without any certain knowledge, but he's a lot more reckless these days and eventually agrees anyway.

It takes nearly an hour to hike out to the caves and Sam's legs are aching something awful when he at lasts stops.

Dean tells him to stop being a baby, his own form of course, in classic Deaness, light and sweat free. Sam doesn't retort only because he doesn't have the air to spare for it. He glares at him instead, trying to convey the message through his eyes.

xxxx

The cave is deep and dark and it's after twenty minutes of stumbling around on uneven ground that Sam ends up almost literally falling over the thing, lying slumberous in a nest of bones.

The fight does not go well after that, Sam winded on the ground, unable to reach the flare gun to roast the sucker, and completely vulnerable. Dean lunges as the creature swipes at Sam, monstrous claws ripping open his shoulder and Sam screams in agony. He aims the gum to the sound of Dean's horrified yells and fires with a mind still foggy with pain. There is an inhuman screech and the son-of-bitch burns.

xxxx

Sam stumbles out, disorientated with a worried Dean at his side, muttering over and over about the hospital, as if Sam didn't already know that's where to head next.

"Just shut up." Sam finally snaps as he lurches to the car. "I just-…can't deal with this now, okay?" he tells him angrily, slumping forward into his seat.

His brother's eyes follow him, all hurt and protective and by god if that don't make Sam feel so irrationally guilty.

xxxx

Sam stays in hospital over night for observation and the dreams of Dean dying return more vividly than ever and he leaves the next day with barely any sleep at all.

Dean eyes him worriedly when Sam says that he found a hunt in Boswick, during breakfast. "Your sure you not moving a little fast."

Sam rolls his eyes "I'm fine and the Impala's packed. Come on."

xxxx

His phone's lit up when he checks it, the missed call and message sign.

It's from Bobby. Sam deletes it without even listening to what the man says.

Dean eyes him sympathetically from the seat opposite. "It's okay…you'll call him when your ready. It's okay little brother."

Sam shakes his head, not looking at Dean, eyes raw and watery. "It's not okay." He argues, "This is so far from okay…it's fucked up. I'm fucked up. I'm _crazy_."

Dean shakes his head. "Your not crazy Sammy! You're a little messed up and really sad and confused and guilty, but your _not_ crazy. Come on. I'm your brother, who would know better than me?"

Sam looks at him, jaw trembling until he can't hold back any more and tears finally override him and spill down his face.

"Your not_ real_." He whispers fiercely. "Dean's in hell. I couldn't save him. Your just my brain's way of blocking out the loneliness."

The apparition of his brother looks at him sorrowfully and silent.

Sam turns away again.

"And I miss you." He finishes. "I miss you so fucking much sometimes."

**-Fin-**

**Yeah so hope you liked it and ending wasn't too obvious. Please tell me what you think.**


End file.
